Today marks 95 weeks. That is a lot of weeks. I am definitely feeling the distance between us and the life we lived with you here. I will admit I feel like I am allowing myself to feel your spiritual presence more, but sometimes I wonder how much of that might be made up. I guess I won't ever know, so maybe even if it is simply pretending, that is okay.
This last week was brutal. I failed to acknowledge just how awful each holiday season will be without you. I anticipate the challenge, but then actually living it in some ways is worse. The only way I know to describe it is having one of those days where you are just angry over everything and nothing but you can't figure out why or what's causing your feelings. In my case, I know deep down it is grief...I just wish I could keep it locked away deep down for the sake of myself and everyone around me.
I feel like I was not actually present anywhere I went the last week, including work. My body was physically there, but mentally it has been on a distant planet. I am having such a challenge focusing and wanting to do much of anything, it has just been really hard.
Thanksgiving did not help at all. It was a fine day, I actually brought you a bunch of rocks, but not having you around really stinks. I was already off-kilter because of Thanksgiving and then Tzvi had his hockey tournament with 6am puck drops. For 95 weeks I have essentially waited for someone to push me so far over the ledge I blurt out that you died and they should really get a grasp on what matters in life, and it happened. I don't know what I expected to feel when it eventually happened in a heated manner, but I can tell you that crying in a parking lot in Gilbert into the arms of another hockey mom is not what I envisioned, but that's exactly how it played out.
I found myself unable to shake the sadness and anger and wound up sitting back on your bench after going home for a second and then leaving in my slippers. I guess it was needed. Your sister happened to have left her phone on the back ledge of your stone the day before, so I am guessing you knew what was going to happen and that I would be returning.
By Shabbas I felt better, but not overly thrilled knowing that it would be your brother's 4th birthday on Sunday. Seriously, who planned all these things into one weekend? I had little desire to do anything and the birthday box is still in the garage at "Phoenix house". I decorated his door, put together his nerf scooter, and called it a day. I felt guilty. I felt like I needed to smack myself and pull myself together because it isn't fair to him, so I eventually did. I texted a friend from grief group and being that she's been in this position before, she told me that his actual birthday wouldn't be as awful as the day before. I trusted her and when I woke up on Sunday, she was 100% correct.
It is still a challenge for me to comprehend that he is now 4. It makes me question where time has gone despite knowing that 95 weeks have passed. Despite knowing that you would be turning 7 in 2 months. Despite how obvious it is that life is moving forward without you here. I am trying my best to follow the path that I know you are laying out for all of us, but know that there is a huge part of me that wants to embrace my inner toddler and just throw myself on the floor in a full-blown tantrum because I just don't want to move forward.
We went to "Phoenix house" and packed up the playroom, the final room to be emptied so we can have it repainted. Your bedroom doors are freshly painted and no longer contain the very last medicines or times we gave them to you on them. They no longer list your last appointments or the last time we had your tubes changed. They are just white, with no evidence of the purpose they once served. I am a mixture of numbness and wanting to cry. I suppose that describes me on a typical day in general.
Anyway baby girl. I hope you had a great Thanksgiving in Gan Eden. I hope you are being smart and safe and doing everything you want to do! I hope you know how missed and loved you are!
Until next time.